


In and Around Little Herdaz

by she_is_rysn



Series: A Balcony in Urithiru [5]
Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Adolin/Kal tag is a bit of an overstatement but there are still goodies, Chouta food porn, F/M, Gen, Little Herdaz, M/M, Other, there is still no making out in this part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 00:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_is_rysn/pseuds/she_is_rysn
Summary: Palona soothes Shallan with wine and chouta, Adolin and Kaladin do their best to use their words.





	1. A Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolin leads Kaladin to a place they both know, Syl has a bad feeling about it.

POVs: Adolin, Kaladin

Adolin spared no detail of his visit to Vedenar as he led Kaladin through the streets of Urithiru. He could talk endlessly, and did so. No leaving room for meaningful silences, no opportunity for bridgeboy to excuse himself. Just keep talking, keep walking. The wariness radiated off the other man like Stormlight, but he kept pace and stayed quiet. Good.

He told Kaladin what Malata was wearing that day on the Oathgate platform, how Elhokar had responded to the wreckage in Jah Keved, what a clever scribe had commented on when they arrived, what _ she _ was wearing, the weird way one of the soldiers saluted, every single detail he could possibly think of. 

As they entered the markets of Sebarial’s quarter, Adolin could sense the tension in Kaladin’s gait, as if realizing too late that he had walked into a trap. Shallan lived here, after all. 

“Easy, bridgeboy,” Adolin said, pausing his thorough rundown of the condition of the boots of the Veden officers, “we’re not going where you think we’re going. Anyway, there was this one guy who is _ clearly _ a sworn enemy of the quartermaster, because…”

******

“He just keeps talking, Kaladin. Do some humans not need to breathe?” 

Syl had been utterly captivated by Adolin’s nonstop patter which, Kaladin had to admit, was truly impressive. The first minutes after they exited the practice grounds he had tried to act genuinely engaged in what the prince was saying, giving a distracted nod to Skar and Lopen as they made their rounds. But Adolin’s pace steadily increased as they walked, and Kaladin eventually had to focus on keeping pace with the taller man. 

As the prince’s monologue got more and more absurd, Kaladin’s thoughts drifted to Shallan, who he still hadn’t seen since the meeting that morning, scurrying off under Jasnah’s orders. There was still so much they needed to talk about, so much that had happened. He wasn’t sure where exactly they had ended things, for one thing. Were they still calling it off? Were they not? What had Shallan meant blurting out Palona’s name this morning? 

Storms, he wanted to see Shallan, to hold her, taste her,_ be _with her. His heart leapt just thinking of the possibility that he could have that again. 

But, desperate as Kaladin was to experience the exhilaration that was being with Shallan, he wasn’t ready for people to know about it. And Adolin already knew. And they were going to go talk about it. He wasn’t ready for that, either.

Adolin’s prattle generously allowed for a certain amount of privacy as the two of them walked, endlessly it seemed. Kaladin wasn’t paying attention to where they were going until they had already entered Little Herdaz, in the heart of Sebarial’s holdings.

For a second, Kaladin thought he caught a flash of red hair in the distance. He slowed for a second, searching for Shallan’s face, but what would he do if he saw her now, anyway? Call out to her, like some lovesick knight from the songs? 

“Easy, bridgeboy,” Adolin paused his ramblings with a soothing voice Kaladin had heard him use on his horse. “We’re not going where you think we’re going.” 

Stepping behind a row of vendor stalls, Adolin veered down a narrow corridor, apparently unused and unnoticed by the public. He pulled a few spheres from his pocket to light the way and stepped ahead of Kaladin, the width of the tunnel forcing them to walk single file.

“Kaladin,” Syl whispered as she floated beside him.“If I was going to lead someone to the scene of their own murder? This is how that walk would start.”

All of a sudden Kaladin remembered the look that flashed in Adolin’s eyes after their sorry excuse for a spar. _ Danger _. Kaladin reached out and grabbed Adolin’s arm above the elbow, jerking them both to a halt. 

“This seems private enough, brightlord,” Kaladin used his most reasonable soldier-sounding voice. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want to tell me.”

******

Kaladin was clearly running out of patience after their scenic walk together. Adolin could practically feel bridgeboy’s fingerprints as he yanked at his arm. 

Kaladin’s return to his usual confrontational self actually gave Adolin a boost of confidence. Only one of them had kissed the other’s betrothed after all, and Adolin was comfortably on the moral high ground. If Kaladin wanted to get angry, Adolin would be perfectly, infuriatingly friendly. This seemed like a manageable dynamic, something he could control. Storms, that felt good. He pried Kaladin’s fingers off his arm with a mischievous grin.

“We’re not there _ yet _, bridgeboy! This tunnel has no atmosphere! Come on, I really want to show this place to someone, it’s not too far. All done talking about the boots now, I promise.” 

He charged ahead in silence, hoping the other man would follow. After a petulant groan, he did. 

As they walked, a sharp feeling of anticipation rose in Adolin’s chest. He had been so focused on getting them away from the public eye that he hadn’t actually thought about what he would say or do. Storms, this is exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid with the stupid spar in the first place! What were they going to do? And why did Adolin need them to do it on that balcony? 

Adolin realized that he was playing with the handle of the knife sheathed at his waist. He jerked his hand way, quickening the pace. 

_ It’s him or me. _

_ It doesn’t have to be that way. _

Storms, it _ couldn’t _ be that way. What was he going to do, murder a Knight Radiant at the onset of the Desolations because of his _ feelings _? Pending apocalypse aside, Adolin still didn’t feel the need to eliminate Kaladin. He was a human being, not a whitespine. He could handle this. Somehow. Two pairs of boots echoed as they walked quietly along, the spheres in Adolin’s palm throwing shadows across the strata. 

It was easy navigating the twisting passages, which he’d marked with chalk on his way out. Eventually, the gentle stream of fresh air broadened to a cool breeze, and Adolin found himself back on the balcony again, looking out on the world. 

“No,” he heard Kaladin say from behind him, “no, this is impossible.”

Kaladin emerged into the late afternoon sun, the angles of his face glinting with a golden glow as if he were one of the Heralds. It was honestly enough to make you punch a man. He turned to Adolin in bewilderment. 

“How did you know?”


	2. A Good Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assuming Shallan and Adolin have had a silly fight, Palona tries to comfort Shallan with conversation and wine.

POV: Shallan

Shallan sold her story to Palona with some self-righteous ranting and eventually repentant tears, swearing she would give anything to get Adolin back again. The lies felt good, soothing, giving her somewhere to put the frustration and regrets. It was like placing a Lightweaving over her own reality - a cleaner, easier lie to obscure the jagged, uncomfortable truth.

It also seemed to be all that Palona was expecting to hear, so she readily accepted the whole story.

“I won’t say men are all the same, Shallan, but most men are fools in the same ways,” Palona intoned sagely, draining her glass. “He’ll come around, don’t worry.”

Shallan had been quietly using Stormlight to burn off some of the alcohol as they went, but of course Palona couldn’t do the same. And the woman was now pretty drunk. 

“Does...Sebarial ever do that to you, Palona?”

“Do what?” Palona demanded. “Flirt with other women? Oh, no. My Turi knows when he has a good deal. He has a good deal.” 

Palona reached for the bottle, refilling her cup and topping off Shallan’s.

“His sister though? Poor thing does _ not _have a good deal. Mirinal, she’s the one who runs the estate on Alethkar, you know. Smart like her brother. Married an absolute lavis polyp for his money, and they have three very average children together. Her husband doesn’t cheat - I would know if he was cheating - so that’s not bad...” 

Shallan’s neck stiffened at the word “cheat.” What a horrible word. She had never thought of it - her and Kaladin - like that, _ cheating _, but of course anyone else would. Storms, Adolin probably did. Was that her? A cheater?

“... the Vorin ideal?” Palona rambled on, not noticing Shallan’s wandering thoughts.

“Rich and pious and popping out future warriors? Storms yes. Is she happy? I don’t know. But this is not a good deal, Shallan,” Palona warned, jabbing her finger in the air for emphasis. “With these Alethis, they marry for leverage instead of love. I’m sure you’ve seen that - constantly positioning themselves, sizing each other up, deciding who gets the better end of a marriage.”

The comment reminded Shallan of something Adolin had said about their betrothal, some change in the power dynamic now that she was a Radiant. Did that bother him?

“It’s part of why I won’t ever marry Turi, you know,” Palona sighed, rearranging her legs so they splayed in front of her. “Gives me the upper hand, in a way.”

Palona smiled warmly at Shallan, with real affection. Shallan wondered for a moment why she’d been so guarded with this woman, after all the generosity she had shown her. Couldn’t she trust her? _ Shouldn’t _she trust her?

“And for you?” Palona went on, “Your boy’s half Iriali, so he knows what affection is at least. That’s lucky, Shallan, you’re lucky to get that one. Powerful family, good fighter, good looking, nice boy, wild about you? The Almighty doesn’t make too many like him. Cheers to that!” Palona exclaimed, holding out her glass for Shallan to clink. They toasted and drank, and this time Shallan didn’t burn off the toxins.

Palona reached up, placing her cup precariously on the lip of Shallan’s desk as she scooted her backside towards a wall, lolling her head on the stone with a grin.

“You’re lucky, Shallan, really lucky. You know that, though, don’t you.” 

Shallan nodded, lip trembling. She was so storming stupid! 

“Oh, don’t cry, naca,” Palona cooed, slurring only a little, “it was just a fight! Everybody has them! He’ll be back before you know it, with some… pencils… or whatever you artists like. Trust me, whatever you said, he’ll be back. Do you believe me?” 

Shallan nodded again, silently. She was afraid to speak, knowing it would unleash a sob. 

“Good,” Palona murmured, looking on the verge of sleep. Shallan focused hard on swallowing her tears, with partial success. She ran her safehand under her nose, making the sleeve glisten with snot. Storms, why couldn’t she cry like a refined brightlady? She was already sad, she had to be disgusting too?

Palona sat forward abruptly, looking at Shallan with wide awake eyes. “You know, I’m so hungry I could eat a greatshell. You want a chouta? Let’s go, we’re getting chouta.”

Quicker than Shallan would have expected, the little woman was up on her feet, pulling on Shallan’s hands with a surprising strength.

“I’ll show you the best place. It’s so good when it’s fresh, storms, so _ good _.” 

Grabbing Shallan by the safehand - there was no time to explain why that was a bad idea - Palona dragged Shallan out into the streets towards Little Herdaz.


	3. How Did You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the balcony, Adolin and Kaladin draw their weapons and then don't use them.

POVs: Adolin, Kaladin

“Shallan told me,” Adolin said, puzzled. “Wait, how did I know what? What are _ you _ talking about?”

Their balcony. How did Adolin know where to find it? Had he known? Storms, _ had _ this all actually been a joke on him the whole time, just far more elaborate than he’d imagined? Was this some kind of weird lighteyes game that they were all playing?

“No, wait,” continued the other man, “I don’t have to answer to you at all.” Adolin reached out, summoning his blade. Instantly, Kaladin fell into a defensive stance, Syl forming as a spear in his hand. He had been a fool to think the fight was over, of course Adolin just wanted to take it somewhere more private, someplace they could really do each other damage. 

Storms, though, why _ here, _where so many beautiful things had happened? Was Adolin really about to stomp over all those memories with violence? The injustice of it was mind-numbing, but Kaladin prepared for the attack. What else was there to do?

Adolin sighed as the blade coalesced in his grip. “I’m not trying to fight you again, bridgeboy, I swear it. I...I just needed something to do with my hands.” Pensively, he raised the Blade, running a hand along whatever the back of a sword was called. 

Kaladin relaxed, but Syl obligingly remained a spear. 

“I thought I heard you say earlier that Shallan loves me,” Adolin mused, lifting his eyes to meet Kaladin’s as his fingers toyed with the blade. It was disconcerting. Kaladin nodded in response to the question, adjusting his grip on Syl. What was happening?

“And, um, how do you feel about Shallan, bridgeboy?”

Kaladin hesitated. Storms, he _ wanted _to be honest, but he didn’t like to feel baited like this. 

“Answer me!” Adolin roared. His voice caught in the corridor leading off the balcony, amplifying and distorting it. The effect seemed to startle him. Adolin continued in a level tone, threatening in its calm. 

“Because if I love her and she loves me, there’s no problem. Things are just as I thought, just as they ought to be. But if I love her and she loves me, AND you love her, well, that creates some problems. And if...if Shallan…” Adolin paused, scrutinizing Kaladin for a moment. “Can you do me a favor, bridgeboy?”

Kaladin nodded, ready for the fight to start at any second. 

“Can you tell me how she feels about you? That is, if you know.”

******

Bridgeboy was bracing for an attack. He was doing a good job of not indicating it, but it was still obvious in the subtle way he adjusted his grip on the spear, storms, in the way he didn’t dismiss the weapon at all. Adolin understood that his own behavior would read as threatening, but that wasn’t the point, really. The Blade was becoming his lifeline, giving him strength he seriously doubted he contained on his own. He took a deep breath, locking eyes with Kaladin, who still hadn’t spoken. 

“Help me out, here, bridgeboy,” Adolin pleaded, “this whole business has me in the chasms.”

Color deepened on the other man’s face, though it may have just been the darkening sky. Storms, had this all happened in one day? 

“She loves me too,” Kaladin exhaled. The words resonated too much, as if he had never said them out loud before and was just now getting to taste every syllable. It felt like Kaladin had done the equivalent of exposing his safehand, and for a second those dark eyes flashed at him with something that might have been embarrassment. Cold sweat broke out across Adolin’s brow again, his stomach threatening mutiny once more. He didn’t _ want _this. But he also didn’t have a choice. 

“Adolin,” Kaladin said gently, in a way Adolin hated to admit was calming, “Shallan and I went about things … the wrong way. I’m sorry.” He had dismissed his spear now, and moved to a seat on the ledge, no longer blocking the exit. 

“It doesn’t seem right to talk about it without her here, but we can. Do you want to?”

Adolin dismissed his Blade, arms falling limply to his side. He wanted to leave, to just vanish from that point and reappear anywhere else. If only the balcony were an Oathgate that could transport him to the Reshi Isles, or the Horneater Peaks, or storming Shinovar, anywhere at all besides this strange city-thing, full of magic and bad memories. 

Unfortunately, it was just a balcony, carved out of the same strange city-stuff as everything else. There was nowhere else to go.

Dull as a chull, Adolin dragged his feet to the place where Kaladin had come to rest. Storms, he itched to land one good punch on bridgeboy’s perfect scowl, just black out one of those smoldering eyes or dislocate that symmetrical nose. He wanted it so bad he could _ see _it. But it wouldn’t be worth it. Not now. He was so tired. Maybe later.

Adolin perched an arm’s length away from where Kaladin was sitting. For the first time, he noticed how the whole structure of Urithiru seemed ablaze in the light of the setting sun, the rippled shades of the strata dancing in its glow. Though he would have traded this experience for pretty much anything else, it was still nice to have gotten the small gift of this hideaway, far from everything else.

Kaladin cleared his throat. “I still don’t understand how this happened,” he began, “but it all actually started here, on this balcony…”


	4. Better Than the Taverns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palona takes Shallan to her favorite chouta place.

POVs: Shallan, Palona

Shallan could feel the hard ridges of Palona’s perfectly-shaped nails digging into her safehand through her sleeve. The woman was practically dragging her through the streets of Little Herdaz, scents and sounds assailing them from all sides. Palona had been talking to her the whole time, but it was hard to make out anything she was saying over the din. She could have burned a little Stormlight to clear her mind, but it didn’t seem social to keep doing that while Palona was enjoying the full effects of the wine.

Shallan did, however, use a touch of Stormlight to make herself look like regular Shallan, not “tipsy and recently sobbing” Shallan. Pattern buzzed from her skirts, excited by the exaggerated promises of the vendors and the playful insults hurled by passersby. “Shallan, this place is full of lies!” he practically chirped in her ear. "Mmmmm yes, even better than the taverns.”

Shallan’s safehand was abruptly jerked to the left as Palona tugged them into a dark, warm and fragrant tent, larger than it looked from the outside. Lit mostly by oil lamps with a few decorative rubies hung prominently (and well out of reach), a narrow counter ran lengthwise from front to back, attended by a large-bosomed Herdazian woman with impressive biceps. She wore a shortsleeved havah and a leather glove on her safehand, a tan apron hanging on her neck and tied at the waist. A colorful silk scarf tied back an unruly cloud of dark hair, which bloomed out from its confines and ended at her shoulders. Shallan took a Memory of her.

At the sight of Palona, she let out a gasp of excitement, punctuated by a stream of Herdazian that Shallan could not remotely follow. Palona responded in kind, finally letting go of Shallan’s safehand in order to gesture at her. The woman got serious for a second, studying Shallan with arms crossed, and Shallan found herself trying to stand taller under the scrutiny. Clearly she had just gotten a rundown of Shallan’s romantic woes. 

“I’m Yoya,” the woman said in unaccented Alethi, sticking her hand out to shake. “You want a drink?”

******

Yoya’s smelled like heaven. Or, more accurately, home.

A few heads turned when she and Shallan came in, and Palona wasn’t sure whether it was because of her or her freckly companion. She didn’t care much either way, but still directed them to a spot at the counter closer to the rear.

Palona inhaled the fragrance of the flatbreads cooking on a wide, flat stone over a fire. Beside it, a vat of oil bubbled away as meatballs and cremlings were dropped in and scooped out, spiced and crispy. She exchanged a smile with the young man standing over the fire, who blushed and gave a cute little nod of deference. 

“Do you have any yellow, Yoy?” Palona turned back to Yoya, adding in Herdazian, “We got started early today.”

Yoya laughed, a single exuberant bark. “Ha! I’m not serving you a shade above orange, ganchita! Can you imagine if the highprincess was seen stumbling drunk out of my establishment? Imagine the fines!” Her friend laughed again as she poured from a bottle of orange wine, diluting it further with some fruit juice.

“Besides, I don’t have anything but orange, and it tastes like riddens,” she added with a wink, placing down glasses before her and Shallan. 

Palona had lost track of the girl for a second, and now noticed her gaping at her surroundings, occasionally blinking in a very adorable way. She nudged Shallan with her elbow.

“You want cremlings or meat? They’re both good, but I’m traditional, I like the meat.”

Shallan hesitated, eyes darting to the fry station. “I… I don’t actually think--”

“Two meat ones please, naco,” Palona called to the boy in Alethi. “Sauce on the side for my friend here.”

Palona closed her eyes and took a long swallow of the mediocre drink. The sound of the meat balls sizzling in the hot oil was like music. 

******

Shallan took a polite sip of the cloudy orange concoction as Palona all but drained her glass. She could feel some stares, being the only lighteyes present, but it was nothing close to the discomfort she’d felt walking into Alethi society for the first time. Yoya was taking an order from a group that had just walked in, calling out to the teenage boy frying the food, while behind her a girl Wikim’s age was arranging, rolling, and saucing choutas at an impressive speed. She caught Shallan staring at her and gave a suspicious glance, as if Shallan were being critical and this was the behavior she expected from a lighteyes. 

Shallan made sure to give her warmest, most gracious thanks when the same girl delivered their food, even though she had no interest whatsoever in eating it. How in storms had she even ended up at a chouta stall? 

“Do you know how to eat this?” Palona asked, already chewing. “Here, you grab it around the side like this, no, here,” Palona grabbed Shallan’s hand, flattening her palm and placing the food inside it. It felt wrong touching food with her whole hand like that, and not at all ladylike. Involuntarily, Shallan let the chouta roll off her hand and back on to the plate. She heard a snicker, and realized it was the girl. Even Yoya smiled indulgently. 

“You want a knife and fork?” The woman asked. “We have them, no problem. You want one?”

It was a genuine offer, but Shallan’s pride was bruised just enough. She was a storming Knight Radiant! She wouldn’t be defeated by dinner!

“No thank you,” Shallan smiled back. “I’m fine, thanks.” 

Pattern hummed quietly from her skirt.

“I’ve heard it’s weird the first time, for Alethis,” Palona conceded, already halfway through her chouta and helping herself to the cup of gravy on Shallan’s plate. 

“Here, do you want a bite of mine? I’ll hold it and you can just bite it like i’m holding your fork. Come on, just take a bite.” 

Palona redirected her chouta, aiming it at Shallan’s face.

“No thanks! I think I get the idea now,” Shallan reached for the rolled up bread again, barely dodging a collision with Palona’s meal. Trying not to wince at the touch, she hefted the chouta into her freehand, giving an exaggerated smile before taking a tiny bite. 

It was storming delicious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thrilled to introduce you to Yoya, my very first OC! I loved dreaming her up but MAN using other people's characters is way easier.


	5. Here Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adolin explains what happened to all the spheres that are no longer on the balcony.

POVs: Adolin, Kaladin

“Wait,” Adolin interrupted. “Here? _ Here _here?” 

“Yeah,” Kaladin replied. “Here here.”

“Storming shit,” Adolin laughed. As dusk fell, the blue of his eyes and his uniform grew more and more subdued, their vibrance vanishing with the sun’s light. For some reason, that made it easier for Kaladin to see the other man as a peer instead of a lighteyes, storms, a _ Kholin _. He looked more like a regular soldier in this light - a soldier who happened to have just learned that the woman he loved was unfaithful. What an awful thing. Kaladin felt a fleeting anger towards the ones who had made Adolin feel this way, despite knowing one them was himself. 

Adolin furrowed his brow for a moment, contemplating the space in front of him. 

“Were those _ your _ spheres I hit off here then?”

Kaladin’s eyes darted to the ground as Adolin burst out laughing. Storms!

“You did _ what _ ?” Kaladin demanded. They were all gone. That had been a fortune! Why hadn’t they picked those up this morning?! But nobody was supposed to know about this place! How _ did _ Adolin find it, anyway?! 

Kaladin jumped down, searching the balcony in a panic, knowing he would find nothing. It had been easy to requisition the infused spheres, but only under the reasonable assumption that he would _ give them back. _How was he going to explain?

“I hit them off the side, bridgeboy,” Adolin laughed. “Like this.” He mimed tossing a ball in the air and whacking it with a stick. “It really calmed me down actually, I was in a pretty bad way before that. Here, come look.”

The prince hopped to his feet, beckoning Kaladin to join him on the edge of the balcony opposite the entrance. Kaladin followed, peering over the ledge beside Adolin. Syl swooped down as a windspren, weaving in and out of the terraces and spires that loomed below.

He didn’t see anything.

“Huh,” Adolin made an exaggerated show of bewilderment. “I don’t..._ see _ them anywhere. I guess we’ll have to wait till the next highstorm, eh, Bridgeboy? They’ll light up just like you.” 

Adolin paused, as if struck by an amusing thought. 

“You know,” he finally said, “I’ve been fantasizing about punching you in the face since we got here. Honestly, just really hitting you right _ there _,” Adolin pointed to the spot on his cheek beside his nose and under his eye, reinforcing the statement with an earnest nod. Feeling the point was made, he turned to look out over the balcony again. 

“It seemed like a fair thing to do, all things considered. But this?” Adolin gestured with his chin to the expanse below, where the wealth of spheres had scattered who knows where. “This is almost as satisfying.” His shoulders shook with another silent chuckle. 

Syl reappeared as a young woman, skirts fluttering. 

“I found a bunch of the spheres, Kaladin,” she reported, taking a second to glare at Adolin. “They’re all over the place, but you should be able to get them all back, eventually.” With a huff, Syl floated protectively to Kaladin’s shoulder. 

Because there didn’t seem like anything else to do, Kaladin laughed, a low chuckle of bewilderment that deepened to a rumble just shy of a sob. There was nothing funny about this, nothing at all, but it was too absurd to grasp anymore. 

Startled by the outburst, Adolin gave Kaladin a quizzical glance, as if to ask what could possibly be so funny. His eyes retained their incredulousness as he let out a laugh of his own. It emerged like a cough, forced and hoarse, before giving way to the easy cadence that Kaladin already found so familiar. 

Sharing this moment with Adolin made Kaladin feel uncomfortable and exposed, but it also seemed wrong to run away from that feeling. What right did he have to make himself more comfortable just then, anyway? The vibrations of Adolin’s laughter resonated in Kaladin’s own chest as eventually, the prince looked back out onto the evening. 

Kaladin found himself struck by Adolin’s...ear, of all things. Why would he ever have looked at it before? Storms, did he know what anybody’s ear looked like, if he really thought about it? 

Well, Shallan’s. He knew what her ears looked like. He had experienced her ears with several senses, actually. 

“Here’s a question,” Adolin said abruptly and a little too loud. Kaladin started, unsure of how long he’d been staring.

******

Adolin felt bridgeboy’s eyes on him, really looking. The sensation made his heart leap into his throat, kind of like...well, kind of like it did when he was near Shallan. It wasn’t a bad feeling, it was just confusing. The silence in the wake of their laughter felt big and expectant. 

“How much money did you leave there?” He gestured back at the floor. “I remember it being a lot.” 

Kaladin started, jerking his head back to follow where Adolin had pointed, though he didn’t have to. Storms, it felt like barely any time had passed since they arrived, but the sun had set, and it was getting dark. It would be a while yet before Nomon gave them any extra light up here. Adolin fished the infused spheres back out of his pocket, resting them on the ledge for light.

Bridgeboy grunted, a familiar sound. “It was a lot.”

“I broke some of your spheres too, actually,” Adolin confessed. “I kind of started trying to cut them open midair? Most of the time it didn’t work but sometimes it did. So, uh, some of them are not really usable right now. Or - whenever you get them back.”

“Huh,” Kaladin grunted again, more thoughtfully this time. “Thanks for telling me.”

Starspren started to appear in the sky. Adolin hadn’t taken time outside like this in a very long time. It was so peaceful.

“How in Damnation did you even find this place?” Kaladin broke the silence that fell. Adolin could hear frustration in the question. 

“By accident,” Adolin replied nonchalantly, as if the balcony were a favorite tavern instead of a secret hideaway. Bridgeboy wasn’t entitled to that story, not yet. 

Though he didn’t really want to know the answer, Adolin asked, “You?”


	6. Ganchita's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chouta run becomes a girls' night out.

POVs: Shallan, Palona

Shallan shut her eyes as she chewed her second, much larger bite. Palona could see the tension in the girl’s skinny shoulders melting away as she knocked back half of her wine concoction. For a second, her hair looked wrong, darker, but in a blink it was back to normal. Maybe they _ had _had too much violet back home, after all. 

Shallan gave a quenched sigh, leaning back from the bar. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten, Palona. Ever in my whole life. You know the other day, Adolin—“

The girl froze, fighting valiantly against tears. Palona waited patiently as she moved past the feeling. 

“This is really, really good,” Shallan eventually said, sinking her teeth into the chouta once more. 

Already finished with her own food, Palona took a handkerchief from her safehand pouch, wiping her freehand and the corners of her mouth. Catching Yoya’s eye, she beckoned the other woman over. 

“What’s up! She doesn’t like it?” Yoya demanded in Alethi, wiping her hands on her apron.

“I love it!” Shallan protested with her mouth full. “Can I have more juice please?”

“Me too, Yoy,” Palona gestured with her empty glass. “And let me buy you one too, ganchita, you shouldn’t force Shallan and I to suffer alone.”

Yoya smiled, a glint of wickedness in her eyes.

“Neda, Her Majesty has requested my presence,” Yoya called out in exaggeratedly formal Herdazian to the girl behind the counter. 

“I must attend upon her ladyship. You’re the boss, OK?”

The girl rolled her eyes and turned back to her work, which seemed to satisfy Yoya as a response. 

“Cheers, ladies,” Yoya topped off Palona and Shallan’s glasses, filling a third one for herself. They toasted, and Palona accidentally sloshed some of the liquid onto her hand. Shallan looked very sleepy.

After they drank, Yoya made a face. “Storms, I was right, this tastes like garbage!” she laughed. “How have you two been drinking this crem?” She slammed down her glass and untied her apron, hanging it on a hook. 

“Come on, let’s get a real drink.” 

******

Shallan was lulled by the hum of conversations in a foreign language, along with the sizzle of frying meats and the ruckus on the street. In the womb-like security of Yoya’s place, she hunched over the meal protectively, savoring its warm, chewy, crunchy perfection. Pattern buzzed happily, completely unnoticed in the din. 

For a second, she had actually _ forgotten _about Adolin, forgotten about Kaladin too, and Jasnah, and storming Dalinar, and all the stupid crem she’d set in motion with that stupid map of that stupid balcony. Shallan wished she could just stay here forever, cooking and serving chouta until she was old. Elhokar had successfully hidden himself in Little Herdaz, maybe she could too? 

Shallan felt a deep gratitude to Palona for bringing her here as they toasted with that terrible tasting drink.

And then they were moving.

It was getting dark when they stepped back out onto the street. Vendors were packing up, and the crush of pedestrians had eased a bit.

“So,” Yoya asked Shallan as they walked. “How did you like Ganchita’s?”

“I--what?” Shallan was confused. She heard the two women addressing each other that way, was she supposed to have an opinion about it? Palona and Yoya laughed in a way that made Shallan feel like there was a joke she didn’t understand.

“Ganchita’s!” Palona exclaimed. “That’s where we just were! I told you on the way over, Shallan, remember?”

Shallan felt herself blushing. She couldn’t hear anything Palona had said on that walk, but of course Palona didn’t know that. 

“Oh, right, right!” Shallan lied, very genuinely adding, “That was the best meal of my whole life. I loved it. Thank you so much, Yoya.”

Yoya smiled and gave a short nod, as if she was expecting that response and pleased to elicit it. 

“OK, Brightnesses,” Yoya said, whipping the scarf off her head and tying it fashionably around her neck, “where are we going? Do I need to take you to a tea parlour or can we go _ out _?”

“Out,” Shallan and Palona responded in unison.

“Then follow me, if you please.” Yoya gave a flourish of her freehand, taking the lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that this story was flagrantly failing the Bechdel test! This is a little bit of course correction.


	7. Because You Love Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaladin says maybe more words than he's ever said in his whole life, and most of them are about Shallan.

“Shallan found it - I don’t know how,” Kaladin admitted. “She made a map for me, not long after I got back.”

Kaladin caught the beginnings of smile lines around Adolin’s eyes, more a suggestion than an actual wrinkle. It was a small reminder that the exhaustion and sadness written on the other man’s face were out of the ordinary -- that, given the choice, Adolin would rather be laughing about something. Kaladin found he couldn’t really relate to that.

So it was even harder to start finally telling him the truth, knowing how much it would hurt. Storms, Shallan should be here too. How had this become his job? 

Adolin nodded. Under his lip, Kaladin could see Adolin’s tongue run across the ridge of his teeth, as if keeping something from escaping.

“I see,” Adolin replied.

“Kaladin, I still don’t like this,” warned Syl. She floated up from his shoulder, hovering in the space between his face and Adolin. Through her translucent form, Kaladin saw the other man’s face turn to him, eyes glinting in the spherelight. The cool glow of the gems created shadows on his cheeks and the hollows of his eyes, creating a creepy mask of sorts.

“And you kissed her,” Adolin’s voice was quiet, controlled, and cold.

“I’m ready, Kaladin,” Syl whispered, returning to his shoulder “And I don’t have on that stupid speartip anymore.”

Kaladin nodded. “I kissed her.” The words tasted like bile. But, he loved kissing Shallan! Kissing her was the best thing he’d ever done! He wished he could kiss her right now! Why should it feel bad to say so?

Kaladin suddenly recalled the way Shallan had changed, the night before. The way she had become blunt and businesslike, forcing them to stop indulging in this new-found feeling and start being responsible.

Could he do that too? He could certainly try.

******

It startled Adolin a little bit when Kaladin straightened up, stepping away from the spot where they’d been leaning on the ledge side by side. He instinctively rose as well, ready to defend himself, but it was immediately obvious that Stormblessed wasn’t about to try something. Storms, since when was he so easily spooked? 

“Brightlord,” Kaladin began in a strangely formal tone, “I want to tell you everything, as well as I can, from my perspective. I’m sure there are some things Shallan sees differently, and I hope you’ll talk to her about it, but I believe I owe you some answers, too.” 

He was pacing, hands behind his back like one of the old ardents who gave him lessons as a boy. Adolin found the change in Kaladin’s bearing a little silly, clashing with the scowl and uniform he wore so easily. It was enough to set Adolin at ease for a moment, simply observing bridgeboy’s weird performance.

“What happened here between Shallan and me is...complicated. I know, that’s an understatement, but it’s not as simple as the two of us just lusting after each other or...or anything like that.” Kaladin faltered for a second, not meeting Adolin’s eyes. 

“I’m not sure how much you know about this,” Kaladin continued, “but when Shallan and I were trapped in the chasms, we kept each other alive, and we were also pretty sure we were going to die.” 

Adolin realized that Shallan had never brought up that experience, and that he had never thought to ask. How storming stupid.

“I genuinely thought that she was the last person I was ever going to see,” Kaladin went on, “and after we escaped...well, things got really busy, I guess. You remember. And then I left. There wasn’t really time to think about her, or...us -- I know you said there is no ‘we’,” Kaladin added hastily, “but there is, brightlord. Whether you want it or not.”

Kaladin paused, as if waiting for an objection, but Adolin had nothing to say. He simply stood, feeling intensely alone. Giving in to that loneliness in front of bridgeboy wasn’t an option, though, so Adolin just stood, waiting for Kaladin to start talking again.

Kaladin looked at him, searching his eyes for a response or a reaction. Adolin did his best not to give one.

“Shallan sent me the map leading here when I got back to Urithiru. I’ll be honest, it surprised me, but I came. And I was excited to come.”

“Here,” Adolin interjected. 

“Yes, here where we’re standing,” Kaladin responded, confused that this point needed further clarification. 

“And what were the spheres for?” Adolin asked, as casually as he could. Bridgeboy hesitated, as if deciding what he was allowed to say. He stopped walking for a moment, searching the air around him.

“I’m...I can’t explain that to you. I’m sorry.” It was a genuine apology. What in Roshar was going on?

“What do you mean, you can’t? Is your affair with my betrothed classified information, bridgeboy?” Adolin bit back his tongue. It wasn’t the time for sarcasm. He needed real answers. But what in damnation did that mean? 

“Never mind, never mind,” Adolin began walking his own circuit of the balcony, picking up where Kaladin had left off. “So Shallan made you a map, and you got together, and you drained a year’s taxes worth of Stormlight, and then what? Were you planning to run away together? Have a thing on the side? I don’t know why Shallan told me at all, you could have been very happy in the shadows together for a long long time.” 

Adolin realized he was shouting. He didn’t care. 

“Bridgeboy, _ why _do I know about this?”

******

“Because you love each other!” Kaladin shot back. Storms, was Adolin really suggesting that they should have just kept it a secret forever?

“Because Shallan loves you, and she cares about you, and I guess that doesn’t make any sense, but this thing between her and me isn’t anything _ like _ the thing between her and you. I don’t want what you have with Shallan, and she doesn’t want that either, and we don’t want our thing to make your thing impossible, because that would be so storming _ stupid _!”

Kaladin threw up his hands in frustration, gesturing at the whole sky. The storming Desolations were here, what a ridiculous thing to yell about.

“I did kiss Shallan. I kissed her a lot. It was an incredible feeling and I would gladly do it again every day of my life. But we agreed we had to stop, because it wasn’t fair to you, and because while I would have done nothing differently, it was still wrong to go behind your back. I’ve lost things more wonderful than that kiss, but I’m not giving up Shallan as a part of my life, Adolin. And I think you would be a fool to give her up, too.”

_ Kaladin, watch out! _

Syl’s warning came just before Kaladin’s vision went temporarily black, his neck whipped to one side in a flash of pain. Apparently, Adolin had finally decided to throw that punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's Part 5! Turns out love triangles are really complicated! Thanks as always for taking time to read, comment & kudo, I appreciate it very much.


	8. Hey Reader!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've Moved!

Heya! If you have enjoyed this work in any of its sections, you can now read the whole thing in one place: [Here's a link to that place.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041639/)

There’s some minor tweaks from the originally published chapters, but you’ve basically got the gist if you’ve read everything. Thanks for reading, commenting, and kudoing, and generally being a delightful fandom to be a part of!

<3

s_i_r


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